She Doesn't Know
by Moonlit Dreaming
Summary: Rejection hurts, as does betrayal. Sometimes, though, it's hardest when you love someone, but you never have the courage to tell them. Gray x Mary, MFoMT. Short oneshot.


**Disclaimer - **Harvest Moon is not mine.

**Author's note - **I don't really know what made me want to write this. It's Grary, my ultimate favourite HM pairing, but it's also quite sad and I usually want to write happy things about them. It also turned out a lot shorter than I was planning, so sorry about that. Enjoy! Reviews aren't necessary, but they _are_ greatly appreciated.

She Doesn't Know

_Oblivious,_ Gray thinks, his eyes darting towards the Library counter, _utterly oblivious._

She doesn't know that he's watching her. The room is totally silent apart from the gentle rustle of paper, and he's forever sneaking glances at her. Only she never seems to notice him. She only has eyes for the precious book in front of her. All he wants her to do is _look up._ Just the once, just to see him. She's tutting adorably now, engrossed in what she's reading and apparently not liking it one bit.

It would be endearing, he tells himself, if it wasn't so damn infuriating.

She doesn't know that he has no interest in, er... what was it again? A quick glance at the title tells him he's reading, 'A Beginner's Guide To Botany'. Hmm. That means flowers, right? Judging by the illustrations, he'd have to say yes. The page is yellowed and fading and the words refuse to make sense before his eyes. He doesn't care, though. He's only reading it - or, at most, pretending to - because she suggested it. And he only likes reading because she liked it first. If it wasn't for her, he'd never go near a dusty little Library.

But she doesn't know that.

She doesn't know that she's beautiful. She's under this mad illusion that you have to be tall, blonde and willowy to be admired. To be loved. But even with only the faintest beam of Fall sunlight penetrating the window pane, her dark hair simply _shines_. It seems almost impossible that hair that black, can gleam that much. Only it does. She twirls a strand unconciously between her fingers, as he feels his cheeks burning crimson. It's one of her little traits. She doesn't know that she does it, and he wouldn't tell her for the world. He certainly thinks she's more beautiful than she realises. If only she knew. He could scoff and grumble and moan endlessly about the oh-so-perfect Princesses in her fairytales, but it wouldn't make the slightest difference.

She'd only ask him if he had a cold.

She doesn't know that he's not taking Claire to the Full Moon Festival. What's more, he never had any intention of doing so. But she's convinced he is. As is the whole of Mineral Town by the seems of it. It's funny, he muses, how an innocent conversation about farming can be blown out of all proportion. Suddenly, there are endless rumours of dates and even _marriage,_ while all he and Claire can do is laugh from the sides. _She_ isn't going out of loyalty to Kai. And neither is he by the seems of it. The only girl he cares about thinks he's going with someone else. He wishes he had the courage to correct her. The courage to tell the truth. If only...

If only she could read minds.

She doesn't know that he loves her. Hell, it took _him_ long enough to figure it out! Working out his own feelings for the shy Librarian was hard enough. Actually doing something about it... well, that seems utterly impossible. The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue. He just can't say them. _It's easy,_ he assures himself wildly, gripping the botany book tighter than ever. They're only words. Three simple little words. And suddenly, shakily he's on his feet. _Tell her, tell her,_ he pleads with himself, _say it. It's only three short words._

So he does. Three words. But they're the wrong three. "Well goodbye, Mary," he mumbles instead. Startled, she jumps slightly and looks up at him, her grey eyes blinking confusedly from behind those thick glasses. He knows she's dying to glance at her watch, wondering, all the while, why he's leaving this early. He's wondering it, too. Perhaps she thinks he's going off to meet Claire... if only she knew. He hopes and prays that that thought doesn't hurt her.

"Oh," she says slowly, closing her hardback and glancing absolutely anywhere but him. "Goodbye Gray. I'll see you tomorrow?"

He nods as he shuffles towards the door, actually attempting a smile. It probably comes out as little more than a grimace. The blacksmith pauses in the threshold for only a brief moment. He doesn't know what he's waiting for, but he knows that it's got to be big. A flash of inspiration, a moment of sparkling clarity for the two. Anything. Anything at all. But nothing comes to him, she's looking perplexed and, with a hurried farewell, he steps onto the sodden street. One recurring thought is plaguing him.

She doesn't know.


End file.
